


Walls of Jericho

by FortunesRevolver



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Apparently I killed my beta with this., Gododdin needs to fix that., It's borderline crack., M/M, May he rest in peace., Oh my god what did I just write?, Ridiculous Humor, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-05 21:58:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5391836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortunesRevolver/pseuds/FortunesRevolver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zaveid shrugs and scoops up the key with a suggestive wink and gestures toward the hallway where the girls disappeared. “No problem at all, Shep,” he grins. “If I get cold, I’ll be sure to find someone to hold me close. And who knows--” he pauses to wiggle his eyebrows. “Maybe you’ll find a lovely babe of your own.”</p><p>Now with less typos <i>and</i> an omake.</p><p>This super awesome person drew some cute <a href="https://twitter.com/MiyaHyakki/status/692227513649602565">fanart</a> for the fic (and a <a href="http://fortunesrevolver.tumblr.com/post/138248605897/pictwittercomv2kfoearx5">comic too!</a>) and ya'll should go praise it because it cute. Look at their faces. It's precious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KageSora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KageSora/gifts).



It’s a small treat when they finally stop for a small break in Pendrago. The appearance of rain, once normal, seems odd in a city that has been sunny for so long, but the weather has steadily been growing worse over the course of the day. While water is something at least two of them are highly accustomed to, Lailah is far from overly fond of being stuck in the rain, and Edna doesn’t take well to how quickly the water has soaked her dress, nor the playful grins Zaveid keeps sending in her direction.

As they all stumble into the inn, water drips off their clothes and onto the inn floor. Puddles much too large for two people are left behind, but the irritation on the inn-keeper’s face quickly fades when Sorey approaches them with an apologetic smile. No one questions when he gets one room more than they need, as it’s very like Sorey to do try and help the establishment they’re causing trouble. If anyone were to guess, there was likely a generous tip in the bag as well.

Without even thinking about it, they split into three groups. Lailah takes the first key once they are in the safety of the hallway, and is immediately followed by Rose and Edna. Two keys are left sitting in Sorey’s palm, and he picks one up, offering it to Zaveid with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Zaveid,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I felt bad for all the water and, well… Will you be okay on your own tonight? The rooms are next to each other, so…”

Zaveid shrugs and scoops up the key with a suggestive wink and gestures toward the hallway where the girls disappeared. “No problem at all, Shep,” he grins. “If I get cold, I’ll be sure to find someone to hold me close. And who knows--” he pauses to wiggle his eyebrows. “Maybe you’ll find a lovely babe of your own.”

Beside Sorey, Mikleo scoops up the last key between pale fingers with a roll of his eyes. “Sorey isn’t like _you_ ,” he scoffs and starts down the hallway. “He isn’t interested in picking up girls.”

Zaveid’s grin doesn’t waver as he swaggers down the hall, patting the shoulder of a very confused Sorey. “That so?” he nods in understanding and gives Sorey another pat. “Don’t worry; the winds of youth will fill your wings yet, little fledgling. It comes for all… types.”

Sorey doesn’t have a chance to ask what Zaveid means before the Wind Seraph has already slipped into the room next door. His gaze shifts to Mikleo who looks much more irritated than normal and steps forward, placing his hand on the door knob to turn it. “Zaveid sure is weird, huh?” he asks, breaking the silence and earning a snort in response. It’s a small thing, but enough to make Mikleo’s shoulders relax and Sorey is glad the odd tension is gone.

“Come on,” he continues, “Let’s dry off.”

* * *

The next morning, Sorey is the last to slink out of his bed and into the small seating area of the inn. Rose greets him with a wide grin and a perky ‘good morning!’ before returning to her breakfast and animated conversation with Lailah. Without pause, he takes the seat beside Mikleo and smiles gratefully when a plate of food is immediately pushed toward him.

“You slept late,” Mikleo notes and offers a fork to go with the plate he’s just passed over. “It’s almost noon.”

“Yeah, well…” Sorey trails off sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “The beds were just… really comfortable.”

Mikleo pauses briefly as he reaches for a glass of water, but doesn’t respond. His expression is lost somewhere between irritation and amusement, but what he almost says next is drowned out by a groan as Zaveid slumps across the table.

“The beds might have been nice, but you’d think a city made of stone would know a thing or two about walls.”

“The… walls?” Sorey asks and spears a piece of sausage. “Was your room cold?”

“Cold I can handle,” Zaveid grunts, “but the _noise_ was insane.”

Mikleo coughs and jerks violently in his seat in the middle of a bite. In an instant, Sorey is on his feet, but Mikleo waves the action off with a wave of his hand as he manages to clear his own throat.

Once Sorey sits back down, Zaveid continues his displeased rant unperturbed. “This group of kids next door wouldn’t _shut up_. A bunch of teenagers – and not even _girl_ teenagers. Just a bunch of guys getting excited over some game.” He sighs and pulls himself back up to rest his chin lazily in his hand. “I mean, if they’d _at least_ talked about their love-lives it would have been _interesting_. But it was all ‘did you see him catch that ball?’ this and ‘I bet I could kick harder’ that. Ugh, so _boring.”_

“Oh?” Sorey nods sympathetically and takes another bite of food, chewing thoughtfully. “Maybe their windows were open?” The rain _had_ stopped shortly after the sun went down, and the cool breeze might have been nice if they were playing sports. “I mean, no one ever seems to hear anything.”

Zaveid’s questioning glance is left unnoticed as Mikleo nearly spills his entire drink down his front and all but _glares_ at Sorey. Sorey’s smile is bright as ever as he taps the corner of his mouth and points to Mikleo’s.

“Ah, Mikleo—you’ve got something right here. Hold on, I’ll…” He trails off and leans forward, bracing one hand on the table and another against the back of Mikleo’s chair. The napkin Rose was offering across the table is ignored completely as Sorey doesn’t so much as pause and presses his lips to Mikleo’s.

A soft gasp and utterance of ‘oh my!’ from Lailah startles Zaveid out of his stupor and they both _swear_ they see Sorey’s tongue flick out and disappear as quickly as it came. Rose, with a mouth wide open, glances around the empty lobby, then back to the scene in front of her and rubs her eyes. Some part of her thinks she’s still asleep. Edna, however, offers nothing but a small frown and a few choice words before she continues eating. “If you two are going to start _that_ , go back to your room. Just because the _humans_ can’t see both of you doesn’t mean _we_ can’t.”

Sorey pulls away quickly and has the decency to look sheepish as he fumbles clumsily with his fork and looks across the table at the small range of surprised faces. His gaze shifts back to Mikleo, who dazed and mortified at the same time as a dark blush begins to creep across his face. _“Sorey!”_

“Ahaha… whoops?” Sorey tries to grin and look apologetic, but everyone’s attention moves when Zaveid nearly drops his glass.

“No one… _ever?_ ” he repeats, the potential meaning behind the statement slams into him and his eyes widen almost comically. “No one-- _what?_ ” His voice rises, and if anyone else had been able to hear him, Rose might have thought it was worth the effort of trying to quiet him down. But she’s still just as stuck on all of it as he is.

“Well…” Sorey begins, his expression earnest as if what he’s about to say makes perfect sense. “I mean, the walls here have to be good. Marlind’s seemed really nice too. So were Ladylake, Lastonbell… Oh, and Elysia too! But I guess that’s normal when all of them were made of sto—” Mikleo’s hand silences Sorey’s mouth, the dark flush from before now colouring his face entirely.

“I think…” he says carefully, glancing across the table, “I think they get it, Sorey. _All_ the inns have _great_ walls.” He sits back down and rubs his forehead, ignoring the strangled noises coming from the other side of the table. “…Except Gododdin.”

“Oh right…” Sorey nods and laughs quietly. “That maid wouldn’t look me in the eyes at all…”

“That’s because she thought you were alone.”

“Probably… Huh. Maybe that’s why.” He takes a thoughtful sip of his juice. “No one can hear most of the noise.”

“SOREY!”

Mikleo’s embarrassment is overshadowed by Zaveid dropping his glass on the floor on the floor with a cry of, “Are you _kidding_ me!?” He looks scandalised, like the two of them have just offended him. “Our pure as the driven snow Shepard is the only one gettin' any around here?!”

The cup shattering is enough to bring the cook flying out of the back, and Rose immediately leaps to her feet and darts around the table. “Whoops!” she calls loudly, “Sorry about that. Guess I bumped the table a little too hard. I can be such a klutz. I’ll make sure it gets cleaned up~”

The cook, eyeing the group oddly, just nods and eagerly retreats back into the kitchen. The Shepard’s group, or seemingly lack thereof, has always been a bit strange.

“…That’s not true, Zaveid,” Sorey protests, trying to calm Zaveid’s distressed rants of when they’d ‘finally’ seen the light and realised how much they wanted each other and _why-oh-why_ hadn’t they told their ‘great pal Zaveid?’ “We did tell you. I mean, kind of. Remember that stuff about the wind and carrying things--”

“Just give it up, Sorey.” Mikleo sighs and rubs his forehead. “Let them figure it out on their own.”

“But…”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Zaveid leans across the table and eyes the two of them quietly. “Tell me this: how long has _this—”_ he gestures to the two of them with a wave of his hand, “—been going on?”

“Um, well, actually…” Sorey trails off and Zaveid seems to pale slightly. “I guess… since always? Well, not _always_ … But it was before we left Elysia and…”

As Sorey trails off, Zaveid and Rose swear in unison. “ _Seriously!?”_

“You’re _all_ blind,” Edna cuts in, standing up as she leaves her breakfast unfinished. “It isn’t that hard to hear through stone walls.” No has time to point out the obvious reason behind this before she moves to leave the room, offering a final statement over her shoulder.

“And just so you know, _Meebo_ isn’t the noisy one.”

Sorey’s cheeks flare immediately as Mikleo buries his face in his hands, and Zaveid gives him a proud thump on the back. “Oh-ho-ho, _nice!_ I guess our little Shepard isn’t so pure after all!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goddammit, Gododdin. Learn how to make some proper walls. That poor maid just wanted to clean -- but the room will never be clean again. Never.
> 
> All of this is based on [this](http://actualaster.tumblr.com/post/134845256667/fortunesrevolver-actualaster-fortunesrevolver). This whole conversation went into the realm of ridiculous really fast. Then dearest Kage made a request and far be it from me to deny someone SorMik when, uh, "inspiration" strikes.
> 
> I don't even have an excuse for this. I don't even know what it is. But by god I really hope at least one person out there laughed so I don't have to hide away in shame.
> 
> Also, Dezel probably knew the entire time. He heard each and every meeting... on the wind. Poor bastard.
> 
> ~~Gotta love that double note-post error.~~


	2. Omake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So someone left a comment on the last chapter, and this immediately spawned from it. In about twenty minutes. I still don't know if this is straying too far out of character, but Sorey seems like he'd pick up at least a few jokes travelling with Zavied. Though I doubt he fully understands just what it is his jokes are meant to imply. Poor little cinnamon roll...
> 
> Here's hoping that amazing anon is able to find it. This one's for you, fellow resident of SorMik Hell.

Sorey had read up on deserts a number of times in different books, but he doesn’t expect the Lohgrin to be quite as cold as it is. Sure, the inn doesn’t exactly offer walls as sturdy as those surrounding the city, but the blankets are thick and soft, and as long as one keeps underneath them, it works as a reliable shield from the frigid air.

Unfortunately, keeping underneath requires one to remain fairly stationary – as they aren’t intended for more than one person – and hovering above another body certainly isn’t helping to keep the edges down.

“Sorey—”

“Shh,” Sorey’s eyes dance with mischief as he leans down and nuzzles the side of Mikleo’s head with his nose. “We don’t want the inn-keeper coming back.”

“She only came because _you_ screamed. She can’t hear _me._ ”

“I didn’t scream,” Sorey pouts, “I just… the air was a little colder than I thought it would be.”

Under him, Mikleo scoffs and crosses his arms, forcing Sorey to lean further up in their limited blanket space. “Then fix the problem and close your shirt.”

“But Mikleooo…” Sorey whines, drawing out the last vowel as his lower lip protrudes, “I didn’t even undo it.”

Mikleo scoffs and looks away, “I only helped because your fumbling was pulling the blanket away. You should have just taken it off and folded it _before_ lying down.” He pauses to glance at the sack sitting on the other side of the tent and frowns. “How do you plan on getting your other shirt without leaving?”

“Well…” Sorey trails off and offers a cheeky grin. “I didn’t really think I’d need it.”

“…why not?”

“Because we’re in the same room.” Sorey looks all too pleased with the idea and a flush darkens Mikleo’s face enough that Sorey can make it out even in the dim moonlight.

“Sorey,” Mikleo’s eyes narrow as he pulls his arms tighter around his chest, “we are in a _tent.”_

“So?” If they’d been camping somewhere desolate in a forest or the desert, Mikleo might have felt impressed with just how casual Sorey is about it. But they are not in a desert; they’re in the middle of a city taking refuge in what looks more like a fort of sheets and blankets than an actual inn.

 “We. Are. In. A. Tent.” Mikleo repeats, slow and careful, as if Sorey might have somehow missed what he’d said earlier.

“We just have to be care--”

In the next space over, the loud clearing of a throat wafts easily through the white sheet near their heads. “If I so much as hear your pants _rustle,_ I will blow your tent down without a single regret.”

Below Sorey, Mikleo looks mortified and a pale hand slides upward to hide his pink face. Sorey, however, looks up at the thin barrier with a bashful smile. “But Zaveid… that’s what we were trying to do.”

A muffled protest of garbled noises pours from Mikleo’s mouth as he gives Sorey several sharp jabs in the side, earning a rush of gasped giggles in response as the audible sound of a hand being slapped against a forehead is followed by Zaveid’s low voice. “Holy shit, Shep.”

“We weren’t doing _anything,_ ” Mikleo hisses in response, and the laugh that follows suggests Zaveid believes it as much as he might someone telling him the clouds were marshmallows. “And we’re not _going_ to.”

“Damn right you’re not,” Zaveid grunts at the same time Sorey gives an overdramatic ‘awww!’

“If you two seriously can’t keep your hands off each other, then go get it out in the sand,” Zaveid snorts. “Some of us are tryin’ to sleep, and I ain’t sticking my neck out if one of you manages to wake the ladies.”

Lailah and Rose, most likely, would only end up teasing them, but the _idea_ of waking Edna and having to face her ruthless wrath is enough to quiet both of them back down. The silence seems enough for Zaveid and he says nothing more, most likely trying to let himself be dragged back into slumber.

With the silence returned, Mikleo’s peers back up at Sorey with a warning gaze, and Sorey offers a smile of half-hearted apology before flopping back down beside the irritated Seraph. Much to his pleasure, Mikleo doesn’t protest when Sorey slips his arm around Mikleo’s slender waist and tugs him closer.

Pale white hair tickles the underside of Sorey’s chin, and it is silent for several minutes longer before Sorey whispers in a playful tone: “You know, I bet if we took the blankets with us, the sand really wouldn’t be so bad—ouch! H-hey!”

 _“No.”_ Mikleo huffs and pulls his finger away from Sorey’s side. “If you can’t hold yourself together, I’ll just go next door.”

He receives no answer, but knows his threat has worked judging by the prolonged silence that follows. If only it had ended at that.

“…you know,” Sorey mumbles minutes later, his voice drawn out and slightly slurred as he tries to fight a yawn. “We’ll be going back to--”

“ _If you do not go to sleep,_ ” Mikleo’s tone is firm, leaving no room for argument, “you can enjoy the rest of the inns by _yourself.”_

The tanned arm tightening around his waist is the only answer Mikleo needs, and he lets himself relax, knowing nothing else will happen.

Not until they reached the thick and very well built walls of Ladylake.

**Author's Note:**

> Goddammit, Gododdin. Learn how to make some proper walls. That poor maid just wanted to clean -- but the room will never be clean again. _Never._
> 
> All of this is based on [this](http://actualaster.tumblr.com/post/134845256667/fortunesrevolver-actualaster-fortunesrevolver). This whole conversation went into the realm of ridiculous really fast. Then dearest Kage made a request and far be it from me to deny someone SorMik when, uh, "inspiration" strikes.
> 
> I don't even have an excuse for this. I don't even know what it is. But by god I really hope at least one person out there laughed so I don't have to hide away in shame.
> 
> Also, Dezel probably knew the entire time. He heard each and every meeting... on the wind. Poor bastard.


End file.
